


The Deal Series, Smut Version

by glacis



Category: X Files
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-28
Updated: 2010-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-06 18:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacis/pseuds/glacis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In The Deal, Krycek and Mulder wrestle with, uhm, some issues, and Krycek strikes up a truce with Our Heroes.  In The Bait, it's payback time for Alex.  In Possibilities, Scully gets into the act, and another familiar face peers from the shadows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Deal Series, Smut Version

**Author's Note:**

> When I wrote the Deal, I wrote two sets of sequels to it. One, consisting of Runes, Identity and Recognition, is a series of regular X Files with an attempt to build a relationship between Mulder and Krycek. The other, made up of Bait and Possibilities, is strictly sex, and makes no attempt to redeem anyone. Although they have the same starting point, the two series are completely separate from one another. Both series are archived here.

The Deal (smut version) -

He couldn't believe his luck. Maybe, for once, something was going to turn out right. Ever since the double crossing son of a bitch had tried to blow him to kingdom come he'd been running, reacting, twitching at every sound. But now he had a plan. And the bait to set it all in motion had just walked in to his sights.

Mulder looked preoccupied, worried, stressed. Typical, in fact. Maybe a little paler, a bit more tired, than usual, but still there ... still perfect for his needs. He tracked his prey across the street, through the park and over to the apartment building. Waiting until enough time had elapsed to be sure that Mulder was safely in, he passed as silently as a shadow through the side alley and into the back entry, making certain to remain unseen. As he ran lightly up the stairwell, he mentally calculated the odds. It was almost eleven, there were few people out on the streets this late. He should be able to pull it off and get out unseen. On the other hand, if there was a witness, his nine millimeter had a silencer. And the trank darts were strong enough to stop a mountain lion. One FBI agent, no matter how paranoid, shouldn't be a challenge.

He rested outside the anonymous door, regulating his breathing in a manner that was second nature by now, listening intently to the muffled television noises, the rumble of the answering machine, the muted gurgle of the fish tank. One shuffling thunk, then another, as the shoes were kicked off. A short click and tiny rush of air as the tab was pulled on a drink, then the silence of a tired man after a long day at a difficult job. He counted down, twenty, nineteen, taking his time, doing it right. No more messups. He couldn't afford them. No partners now to shoot the wrong person, whether his or Mulder's. No witnesses. It was too damned important. Wouldn't do to break the door in ... not enough time, and too many ears along the corridor.

At the end of his countdown, he scratched, lightly as a cat, then scratched again. The timbre of the silence changed, from relaxed to alert, and the footfalls toward the door were soft and wary. He was unaware of the smile playing about his lips as he ducked slightly, pushing the blank envelope he had brought along against the bottom edge of the door. A pause, then the slightest hint of rustling cloth, as his target bent to peer under the door, seeing the deliberately blocked light, misunderstanding the reason, thinking it was a clue in his never-ending quest, when in actuality it was--

The door opened a crack. A strong hand shoved quickly, forcefully, startling Mulder. Before he could raise his gun, the other man's gun spat once. He clutched at the dart buried in his stomach, fought the conflicting urges to faint and to attack, and swayed as the room began to tilt. His dark haired assailant pushed him none too gently back into the living room and shut the door.

It was bait in the trap. To trap the bait. Alex Krycek smiled gently and leaned forward to catch Mulder as the world went black.

 

His eyes were swimming. And his stomach hurt. And he couldn't move his arms. Hell of a way to wake up ... he must've fallen asleep at a really weird angle on the couch to have such a neck ache... Gradually, the realization filtered through Fox Mulder's mind that something was -- not quite right. The first thing that registered was the fact that he was naked. And he didn't usually sleep naked. One never knew when the MIBs would break into the apartment and take one for a 'little ride', and being nude when that happened was just too humiliating to even consider. Then there was the distinct sensation of carpet fibers pressing against his side and legs. Last time he'd checked, his couch had not been upholstered with shag carpet. Finally, there was the undeniable fact that his arms weren't asleep. They were bound. By metal. He was handcuffed to something, but his eyes weren't cooperating and he couldn't quite focus on his surroundings. And he was very much afraid that any minute now he was going to throw up. Not a good way to wake up.

Sunlight filtered through a tiny window set high into the wall, casting swaying shadows on the sparsely furnished room. A small table, a single chair, and two wrought iron bars set into the wall... he forced himself to assess his surroundings, trying to remain professional, and trying to think of anything other than the nearly overpowering urge to vomit. Whatever the hell had been in that dart had been strong enough to set his system spinning. He pulled himself painfully to a seated position and continued to scan the room. The ridges on the wall behind him, and the approximate six foot separation of the iron bars made him think that at one time they had been the endpieces of a bookcase built into the wall. Now, they made a very effective prison. He eyed the chain binding his wrists to one bar and his left ankle to the other, mentally trying to find a way out. Nothing was immediately apparent.

A rat in a trap. Alex grinned nastily to himself at the description, then let himself into the room, making no effort at stealth. Mulder's head swung away from his rapt contemplation of his ankle chain, a little too quickly to judge by the suddenly green hue of his face. As he fought valiantly to control his stomach, Krycek settled into the lone chair and regarded him with mock sympathy.

"Poor Fox. Got his leg in a trap and his tummy doesn't feel too good, either, now does it?" Mulder suppressed a growl, keeping his teeth clenched against the nausea, and he laughed softly. "It'll pass pretty soon, Mulder. There wasn't anything toxic in it," he reassured him with touching, if utterly false, concern, "and the effects are relatively fast to dissipate."

Mulder tried to ignore the fact that one, he hated this man more than any other single individual on the face of the earth with the possible exception of Cancerman, and two, he was unable to rip his throat out like he really wanted to because he was chained naked to a wall. He forced himself to face his nemesis, chanting "His day will come" silently to himself like a mantra against his own helplessness. Eventually, he calmed down enough to be able to watch his former partner with something close to his usual equanimity.

Alex stared back at him measuringly. When he was certain that Mulder had calmed enough to listen to him, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and pinning Mulder with an intensely serious gaze.

"I have a proposition."

"Fuck you!" So much for equanimity.

"Maybe later, if you're lucky." He enjoyed the dumbstruck look on Mulder's face for a split second before continuing with his proposal. "I have something you want. You have something I want. Or, actually, you and your friends have something I want. Are you willing to listen?"

Mulder stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. "Whatever you have, Krycek, I'm not buying. You can go straight to hell."

"Probably," Alex returned with a wry half smile. "But I don't want to go alone. And with your help, I won't."

This time he couldn't restrain the growl. "I don't trust you and I sure as hell am not going to help you!"

Krycek gave him that same measuring look, then smiled. It was not a reassuring sight.

"Yes. You will." He arose from the chair and walked to the door. Pausing to shoot Mulder a last glance, he smiled again. "You will."

Mulder narrowed his eyes at the closed door, then swept a searching glance over the walls. He didn't see any obvious monitoring devices, and he didn't want to waste any time. He had to get the hell out of there, before Alex came back and dragged him further into his little game.

 

Krycek had to admit, he hadn't expected Mulder to recover quite so fast. Watching the determined agent through the concealed camera in the table front, he winced as he saw him open yet another slice on his wrist with the edge of his cuff. Mulder had managed to wedge the side of his cuff under the edge of one of the iron posts, digging into the plaster of the wall in an attempt to loosen the bar and slip his chain free. Unfortunately, this put the hard edge of the cuff cutting directly into the soft skin on his wrists and the blood was starting to flow freely. Alex sighed, and gathered up a stocked medical kit. If he was going to persuade Skinner and Scully to help him, he had to make sure the bait was in good shape. They probably wouldn't be too cooperative if Mulder effectively slit his own wrists and bled to death before they could even figure out where he was being held captive.

Mulder froze as the door drew open again, and Krycek stalked into the room. Dropping a bulky box on the floor a few feet away, Krycek came to within striking distance of Mulder and glared at him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, you damned moron?" Mulder was feeling a little light headed with the remnants of the drug in his system, compounded by the blood loss, and his grip on his temper was nonexistent.

"And if you did manage to pry yourself loose?" Alex inquired, dropping into a comfortable seat on the carpet and regarding Mulder quizzically. "In case you haven't noticed, you're half stoned, your leg is still chained to the wall, and you're stark naked."

Mulder glared woozily at him, then shook his head to clear the last bits of fuzziness from his brain. "I'd rather take my chances naked in a fucking snowstorm than in here with you, Krycek."

"I was afraid you'd say that," he sighed. "You know, if you'd just listen to what I have to say--"

Before he had the chance to finish the remark, Mulder pushed out with all his strength, succeeding in pulling the bar away from the weakened plaster. Before Krycek could react, he swung his fists together in a modified hammering blow, catching the other man across the face and opening up a gash in his cheek with the swinging chain. Alex reacted immediately, with an uppercut that slammed Mulder back against the wall, stunning him. With no wasted motion, Alex pulled Mulder's arms high above his head, all the weight of his body now on his shoulders, and clipped the chain to one of the curled hooks in the design of the wrought iron. Backing away and lifting a hand to his burning cheek, he regarded the writhing figure in front of him with mingled respect and hatred.

The things he had to do to stay alive.

 

Every time he tried to pull himself up, to take some of the strain from his burning shoulders, the cuffs would bite deeper into the cuts on his wrists, He tried to use his hands on the chains, but his fingers slipped on the links, slick with his blood. When he thought that his hands were completely numb and he really would have to start screaming very soon, the damnable door opened again.

Krycek had taken the time to clean his own cut cheek, small butterfly bandages holding it closed. He watched Mulder's face as he approached, readily admitting to himself that the undoubted agony on the face of the troublesome bastard made him feel much better. Stopping to pick up the medkit on his way, he yanked roughly at the chain, dislodging it from the hook. Mulder was unable to muffle his cry of pain as his deadened arms clattered against his midsection, instinctively curling up to protect his groin from the swinging chain. Krycek knelt beside him, waiting for him to catch his breath.

"You really are a pain in the ass, you know." His matter-of-fact tone cut through the haze of pain in Mulder's head, and the agent opened his eyes to see Krycek calmly preparing a syringe full of clear liquid. As he shot a drop from the end of the needle, clearing any air bubbles, he regarded Mulder thoughtfully. "Guess you'll just have to hear my proposition when the others do. Until then, this should make you a little more ... manageable."

Before he could formulate the question, Mulder felt the tiny sting of the needle biting into his bicep, then things went a little strange. Alex watched the normally intense hazel eyes lose focus, the harsh, angry features soften, and reached for the kit. Applying salve to the cuts on Mulder's wrists, he watched his captive thoughtfully. While this particular combination of drugs wouldn't put him out, it would render him pliable and open to suggestion. As he gently worked the medicated cream into the soft skin, cleaning up the lacerations, he let his mind wander. Now might be the best time to plant some ideas. The others should be getting his messages soon, and when they did, he had to be ready.

 

Krycek's fingers gradually slowed as the warmth of his skin was transferred via the medicated cream into Mulder's cold wrists. The pins and needles must have hurt, but thanks to the concoction he'd injected into his captive, Mulder didn't appear to be in any pain. As the feeling returned in his hands, Mulder made an abortive attempt to pull them from Alex's grasp, but his muscles refused to cooperate. There was a delicious lassitude creeping through him, muting the frantic voice in his mind that was screaming for him to escape, to run, to resist. Other sensations were also permeating his body, and he was unable to mask them in his current state of undress. The warning voice fell mute, horrified by his body's response, and dreading the moment when Krycek would realize what the slow movements of hands on bare skin were doing to his nervous system.

Alex rotated his fingers gently on the bruised and raw flesh of Mulder's wrists and arms, trying to frame his proposition in the most persuasive manner he could while still making it simple enough for Mulder to grasp the essentials, as drugged up as he was. His distracted gaze drifted down to his hands, satisfied with the effects of his ministrations, and he carefully unlocked the chains from Mulder's arms. There was no way the agent would be able to escape. While he was conscious, he was far from capable. As the chains fell away, he gathered them into a small pile to the side of Mulder's hips, bending over the other man's torso to push them against the wall. As he straightened, he noticed what the chain had been camouflaging. One of the drugs in his own particular devil's brew was a stimulant, to keep vital signs strong, and sometimes it acted as an aphrodisiac. From the look of Mulder's erection, this was one of those times.

"I had no idea you were so sensitive to drugs, *Fox*." Alex almost laughed, especially when he saw the mixture of embarrassment, rage and arousal in Mulder's glare. "Looks like later may be now, hm?"

With a wicked smile, keeping his eyes locked to Mulder's all the while, he slowly reached out and began to trace his fingertips along the semi- rigid flesh. Mulder reacted with an involuntary moan, his eyes shutting from either humiliation or denial, Alex wasn't sure which. Maybe both. As his own breath began to quicken, he shelved plans for trying to persuade the recalcitrant agent to join him in his proposition. There would be time for that, later. Right now, under his hands, was the only chance he'd ever get at fucking Fox Mulder. And he planned to make the most of it.

Mulder's hips were pushing lazily up toward Krycek's stroking hand, the lethargic movements gradually gaining strength as Krycek began stroking his chest with his free hand. His mouth fell slightly open, breathing coming in irregular gasps, as he tried to fight his arousal. Krycek leaned closer, caught up in the unwillingly wanton responses of the man under his curious hands. By now, Mulder's erection was straining against his palm, as Alex feathered delicate caresses over the slick skin of his chest. Stopping to scratch lightly over a nipple, he was delighted by the moan the caress evoked, and repeated it several times, alternating from one tight bud to the other. As he was continuing this delicious torture, his other hand roamed freely, circling the sensitive head of Mulder's penis, thumbing the crease along the top then tracing the veins along the shaft until he could roll his balls in the soft sac, eliciting one moan after another until Mulder was almost whimpering continuously.

The beleaguered agent finally managed to get his arms to cooperate, after a fashion, drawing them up and placing them against Krycek's chest, fully intending to push him away. The heat of his skin through the thin cotton shirt seemed to give his hands other ideas, however, and Krycek felt another pulse of arousal when Mulder's hands slid slowly up his chest to rest heavily at the sides of his neck. Taking it as encouragement, whether it had been or not, he quickly shrugged out of his shirt, careful not to dislodge Mulder's unsteady grip. As he backed away to unfasten his jeans, Mulder's hands slipped, the friction as his fingertips grazed lightly through his chest hair sending shivers up his spine. Sacrificing gentle exploration for the sake of speed and his own straining erection, he stripped off the rest of his clothing in near record time and moved back over Mulder's supine form.

As Alex began firmly caressing every inch of silky skin that he could reach, some part of Mulder's mind was watching in an odd mix of revulsion and unadulterated lust. He wanted to pull away, or at least protest, but his mind was awash with the drugs and the unusual sensations running over his body. With a mental shrug, he gave up the fight, his natural curiosity getting the better of him. The small part of his mind that was still relatively coherent sat in the corner and screamed with rage, while the rest of his being concentrated on the incredible sensation of Alex Krycek going down on him.

Krycek followed the path his hands had taken with his lips, teeth, tongue. Mulder tasted sweet and salty, tiny drops of pre-cum wetting his penis and sparkling in the soft dark curls scattered across his groin. Mixing with Krycek's saliva, it caused an almost unbearably erotic sensation as Alex slid his mouth over and around Mulder, stopping to nibble the tender flesh at the crown, nipping and soothing to the root, rolling first one testicle then the other into his hungry mouth, massaging the tender skin with the side of his tongue, engulfing as much of his cock as he could take and then humming deep in his throat. The pressure built until Mulder's head was swimming, and with an inarticulate cry his hips bucked, once, twice, three times. Alex drew back with one final pull, containing Mulder's climax the best he could, gathering the semen into his hands.

Before Mulder could catch his breath, the effects of his climax multiplied in his mind by the lingering effects of the drug, Alex abruptly rolled him over onto his stomach. He spread Mulder's cum thickly along the damp crease of the agent's ass, probing with first one, then two slender fingers at the small ring of muscle. Mulder tried to tense, the outraged corner of his mind protesting a little more loudly, when Krycek angled his fingertips to scrape lightly across Mulder's prostate. His scream caught them both by surprise, and after one instinctive clench, he released his hold on Alex's fingers. As he was trying to catch his breath from that unexpected jolt, he felt the blunt tip of Krycek's penis begin to work it's way deeply into his ass.

Krycek caught his breath as he carefully pushed his way in, pausing to allow Mulder a chance to adjust and to catch his own breath. The sensation was incredible, so hot, and so tight, like a velvet fist squeezing his cock. When he finally worked his entire length in, he paused, resting his sweaty chest against Mulder's broad back. Mulder whimpered slightly, but made no other move, and Krycek slid one hand slowly around Mulder's hip, searching for his penis. Mulder was already erect again, and Alex commenced a gentle rocking rhythm, stroking Mulder's length in concert with his own thrusts. The combined sensations overpowered Mulder, and with another scream that sounded suspiciously like a sob, he came again.

The rippling effect of his climax worked his internal muscles and he milked Krycek until, with a scream of his own, the other man came explosively, clutching Mulder's twitching penis and biting and sucking at the side of his neck. Mulder's hands worked convulsively on the carpet, whether trying to grab hold or push away, he couldn't have said. With one final convulsion, Krycek wrung one last jolt of semen from him, and he felt consciousness slip away. Alex felt the tense body underneath his own relax, and slowly withdrew, gasping from the release of pressure. He rolled Mulder over and checked his pulse, then leaned close to him. Ascertaining that he was indeed unconscious, he opened his mouth over Mulder's in a deep, wet kiss, plundering that full lower lip and taking the liberties he couldn't when the other man was awake and aware. Finally satiated, he drew clean towels from the kit at their feet and cleaned up the evidence of their activities. There was nothing he could do about the bite marks, true, but perhaps by the time Skinner and Scully arrived, they would have faded.

Of course, if they hadn't, that was just too damned bad.

 

She didn't like this. Didn't like it at all. The surprisingly light step of Director Skinner behind her should have reassured her, but it didn't. The fact that Alex Krycek had called him directly should have made her a little more confident. It didn't. All she could see was Melissa's still face, her mother's devastated eyes. Mulder, numb, and his mother, shattered. The desperate plea in her partner's face as he begged her to let him kill the rat bastard. Why hadn't she? Yeah. To keep Mulder from a murder charge. But maybe they could have beaten it. And maybe, just maybe, Missy would still be alive.

On the other hand, maybe not. That black lunged son of a bitch probably had a whole damned army of killers. Krycek was just her own personal nightmare. And Mulder's. Mustn't forget that ... and had to pray that he was still alive.

The light came on suddenly, blinding them both, They froze in identical crouches, and Alex Krycek's voice came at them from the whiteness, seeming by auditory illusion to be coming from every direction at once.

"Drop your weapons."

She risked a glance back at Skinner, hating the feeling of being pinned. He nodded almost imperceptibly, and she gingerly lowered her gun to the floor. If nothing else, she did still have the leg holster under her trousers. Like Mulder, she also got tired of losing her gun.

"I don't want to hurt you," the disembodied voice continued, "and I don't want you to hurt me."

"What do you want, Krycek?" Walter Skinner's voice sounded unusually loud, and incredibly cold. While he wouldn't admit it, except perhaps under torture, he had an almost paternal interest in Agents Mulder and Scully, and these mind games put them in jeopardy. They also pissed him off no end. He gradually straightened, and Scully followed his cue, squinting against the light.

"I want ... a truce."

Scully and Skinner exchanged incredulous glances.

"And we're supposed to trust you?" Dana was trying very hard to maintain her composure. "You kidnapped my partner. You beat up my boss." She didn't notice Skinner's involuntary wince. "You killed Mulder's father, you helped someone abduct me for God only knows what kind of heinous experiments, and you killed my sister!!" Her voice rose slightly with each word. Skinner reached out a restraining hand, and she took a deep gulp of air, trying to stop her body from shaking. Swallowing dryly, she tried again. "Why in Heaven's name should we trust you?"

There was a short silence, then a soft reply. "You have no choice."

Skinner felt his gorge rise, but managed to keep his anger from showing in his expression. Scully wasn't quite as adept. Her skin flushed until her features nearly matched her hair, and the two men could almost see sparks flying from her hair. Krycek finally stepped from the side of the building into the light. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he inclined his head.

"You don't have to trust me. I have something you want, and you have something I want. Straight trade. I want to cut a deal." He didn't smile, but his expression lightened. "And, for once, we both want the same thing."

"What's that, Krycek?" Scully was glad Skinner had asked the question. She didn't trust her own voice.

"Well, as to what we have ... I have Mulder. He's the bargaining chip, the bait to get you to come out here and listen to me." He put out a hand in a stopping motion at Scully's involuntary movement toward him. "He's all right." He paused, and she tried to decipher his expression, but couldn't. What the hell had he done with Mulder, she thought somewhat frantically. She couldn't lose him, too. He continued smoothly, "All I need is breathing space."

"For what?" That was her boss. Direct and to the point. Alex seemed to appreciate it as well.

"I'm working on payback here, trying to save my own ass. Cancerman screwed me, made the mistake of double-crossing me. He's on my ass now, and I need to know that when I take out the bastards that come after me, I'm only taking out his men. They'll be enough to handle. I don't want to have to deal with another fucking vendetta with your people."

In other words, Scully mused dully, no vengeance for Missy. For Bill Mulder. For me. For an instant, she allowed all of the hatred she felt for this man to shine from her eyes, and he took a small step backward, as if her enmity had actually slapped him. She smiled coldly at the cut on his face, evidence that Mulder had not gone quietly, then turned to face Director Skinner. He looked back at her calmly. This was her call. Her partner, her family, her life ... her choice. She nodded, once, sharply, before she could dwell on all the ramifications of her agreement.

"But not forever, you bastard," she hissed across the room at the still dark figure of Krycek. "When you've dealt with him, then you will deal with me."

He nodded his agreement, understanding everything she didn't say, then tossed something shiny at her feet. She knelt slowly and picked it up, her eyes never leaving him. He stepped back in to the shadows and the lights abruptly went out, leaving an afterimage of whiteness that resolved itself slowly into the shadows of the dimly lit warehouse. She scooped up her weapon and took the object over to a nearby window, turning it over in her hand, trying to read the writing on the small tag attached to a new, clean cut key. Finally deciphering the writing, she glanced over to Skinner.

"It's a storage unit in the Parkway. I know where it's at."

He nodded and followed her to her car.

As they sped toward the unit, she prayed that Krycek would actually keep his word, and not harm her partner. Skinner didn't say a word, letting her concentrate on her driving, forming and rejecting possibilities if this rescue started to blow up in their faces. As they drew near the storage units, she cut the lights and they silently exited the car.

He came around the corner high, and she came in low, but there was no one to ambush them there. With one quick look, Skinner nodded her on, and covered her back as she deftly flicked the lock. He pulled back on the heavy door and she bolted around the corner, keeping herself low to the ground to offer the smallest possible target. For no reason, because the small room contained no threat, just Mulder. Unconscious, Hands tied behind him. Dressed in soaked sweatpants and a ragged tee shirt. Skinner kept lookout while Scully quickly checked his vital signs and heaved a sigh of relief.

"Whatever Krycek gave him, it doesn't appear to be affecting his vitals. We'll have to get him to a hospital and get him checked out, though." Skinner nodded agreement and helped her wrestle her ungainly burden out to the car.

It was almost twelve hours before Mulder regained consciousness. The combination of drugs Krycek had used on him did no permanent damage, but did leave his memory hazy.

"Do you remember anything about where he held you, Agent Mulder?" There was no impatience in Director Skinner's tone, but since it was the fifth time he'd asked the question, there was some irritation in Mulder's reply.

"No, sir. I don't. He hit me with some sort of tranquilizer dart, then when I came to, he shot me up with a nice little mixture of his own. After that," his voice faded uncertainly, and Dana was convinced there was something he was not telling them. "... it all gets really fuzzy."

Skinner nodded acceptance, then sighed. "Well, he did keep his part of the bargain. I suppose."

"And we'll keep ours," Scully's voice was hard. "Until Cancerman is ... taken care of."

Skinner looked at her for a long moment, then turned to Mulder. "Get some rest, Agent Mulder." Turning on his heel, he started for the door.

"Sir?" Mulder's raspy question stopped him. "Thank you."

Skinner tightened his lips, then nodded once, and left the room. Dana watched him leave, then turned to her partner.

"What didn't you tell him, Mulder?"

He studied his hands for an endless moment, absently tracing the healing lacerations from the cuffs he'd been chained in. Finally he met her concerned gaze.

"Just ... a nightmare, Scully. Nothing unusual."

She accepted his quiet answer, determined not to pry if he wasn't ready. She reached across the hospital bed and laid a hand lightly on his bruised wrist. He rested his eyes on the small hand covering the marks of his abduction, and gave her a half smile. One day, though, she would know. One more mark against Alex Krycek, one more debt for him to pay. Once this truce was over, then all the markers would come due. And when their deal with the devil was over, she would make sure he paid.

_The Bait_ __

He couldn't believe he was having such a hard time getting it out of his mind. Just once, taking advantage of a chance fate had dropped in his lap, and now it was making him crazy. And it was making him take crazy chances.

He shouldn't be anywhere near Washington, DC. He sure as hell shouldn't be anywhere near the FBI. And if there was a God out there, then god knew he shouldn't approach his own pair of albatrosses, Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully.

But he couldn't get the taste of him out of his mind. And he had to taste him again. No matter who he had to kill to do it.

 

She had that itchy feeling back again. Mulder had been unusually silent the last couple days, and she'd caught him looking over his shoulder a few times, but when she called him on it, he'd looked oddly embarrassed and shrugged it off. He wouldn't tell her what was bothering him, so she let it lay. After the experience he'd had a few months ago when the rat bastard had kidnapped him and drugged him, he seemed off balance, somehow. Dana laughed a little to herself, wondering when she'd picked up her partner's habit of calling Alex Krycek 'rat bastard.' In a way it was too bad. Objectively, she supposed you could call him an attractive man, even handsome. But it wasn't possible to be objective about a man who aided in your abduction, murdered your sister, killed your best friend's father, then kidnapped that same best friend to use him as bait in setting up a truce, so you couldn't even go after the little punk. The itching faded, and she shook her head, determined to ignore it. Maybe Mulder's paranoia was rubbing off on her a bit more than she knew. Shrugging off her light jacket, she turned to flip the hall light on, and froze midmotion. Her reflexes weren't quite quick enough, however, and she could only get out a half-strangled shout as a sharp pain and sudden blackness confirmed her itchy warning.

The dark figure in black denim and leather caught her slight figure before she could hit the floor. New bait, for a fresh trap. A small voice in the back of his head told him he was crazy, but he just grinned at it. Maybe he was, but he might as well enjoy it. The hounds were closing in, and he didn't have much time left anyway.

 

"Damnit, Scully, c'mon, answer the phone..." There was a distinct edge to Fox Mulder's normally calm light tenor. She was supposed to meet him almost three hours ago, and it wasn't like his partner to be late. She knew what happened to him when she was late -- he started contacting shadow figures and revving up illegal computer systems, not to mention freaking out and seeing little gray doctor fiends around every corner. Shit. He hated it when she did this to him. Good thing it didn't happen very often-

The buzz of his cell phone interrupted his increasingly frantic thoughts.

"Scully! Where the hell are you!?"

Silence.

"Scully?" Less angry, more frightened, very perplexed.

"No." Oh, God, not him again. Mulder squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them widely a moment later as scenes he had tried to block out for weeks appeared behind the closed lids with eidetic detail. He swallowed, then tried to sound businesslike.

"What do you want, Krycek?" God, I hate this man, he grimaced to himself. He steadfastly refused to acknowledge the tiny jolt of arousal that went through him at the images he was ignoring.

"You." There was a gravelly sound in Krycek's voice that sent another little electrical jolt through Mulder's body. Damn, damn, damn...

"For what?" Play his little head game, see where it went. He was the psychologist, right? He could think circles around this creep ... he just couldn't outfight him. Unless he was drugged ... he shied away from that thought as well. "I asked, what the hell do you want?"

"I don't have a lot of time, Mulder. Cancerman's closing in." There was an oddly fatalistic tone in Krycek's voice, as if he knew it was almost over, but had a few more tricks to play before the end came.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Sarcasm fairly dripped from his words.

"Nothing. There's not a fucking thing you or anyone else can do. But there's something I ... want to ... I've got to do first."

Mulder sighed. Krycek really did sound like he was at the end of his rope, but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn. "And what's that?" he asked, more by rote than from any interest in the answer.

"Fuck you again." Krycek almost whispered the words, and Mulder froze in shock. Before he could slam the phone down and cut the connection, his tormentor continued. "I have Dana."

No! Oh, goddamnit, no. He felt his hand start to tremble, a shakiness starting from the middle of his chest and spreading in waves through his body. "Where? When do we meet? I swear to God if you hurt her I'll-"

"Third and Tandey, warehouse three, basement. Fifteen minutes. Call anyone, even Skinner, and she dies."

Mulder listened to the dial tone for a few stricken seconds before dropping it to the floor. He had fifteen minutes and it was a twenty minute drive. He didn't stop for his coat.

 

He came alone, as Alex knew he would. He cared much too much about his partner to do anything that might jeopardize her, and he knew Krycek well enough to know that he would kill her if he decided to do so. When Mulder stepped into the small, sparsely furnished basement room, Alex smiled at him. Mulder didn't smile back.

Scully's eyes darted back and forth between the two men, and she cursed the electrical tape Krycek had used to cover her mouth and bind her wrists and ankles. She was helpless here, and it was a position she loathed. She was also confused and not a little terrified, although she was keeping the fear on a short rein. Later, when they were safely out of here, she could have the screaming jeebies. She refused to downgrade that 'when' to an 'if'.

Mulder ignored Krycek for the moment, drinking in the sight of his partner. She appeared unharmed, just pale, angry, and uncertain. It didn't look like Krycek had hurt her. Yet. Finally satisfied with the surface scan he had given her, if not completely reassured, he turned to the rat bastard.

"What are your terms?" Cold. Calm. Faking composure for her sake.

"I take it she doesn't know all the ... details of the last time I detained you?" Such an innocent tone. A little half smile causing small dimples to bracket his mouth. Mulder wanted to kill him with every fiber of his being.

"No." Just the one pithy word, to cover the flashes of heat that lanced through him at the memories.

Scully made an interrogative noise, and Krycek moved in front of her, close to Mulder, speaking softly so that she wouldn't overhear his proposition.

"I know you don't want this, Mulder. So I have a deal to offer you." His eyes raked the taller man from ankles to hairline, beginning to burn a little with anticipation. Mulder remained silent, waiting to hear what he had to say. Krycek smiled a bit wider, deepening the dimples. "I'll take one of you. Your choice."

Mulder narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher hidden meaning from the simple sentence. Take? Take where? Suddenly he felt extremely stupid. He bit on his lower lip to keep from yelling his anger at the man who was grinning at him, and swallowed twice before he could speak softly enough to keep her out of it.

"Take as in have sex with." Krycek nodded, once, and Mulder expelled the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "You're not touching her, you rat's ass son of a bitch."

Krycek nodded again, then stepped back, not turning his back to Mulder, not giving him any opportunities to jump him and try to beat the crap out of him, as he was dying to do. With studied nonchalance, he reached down and hauled Scully up with one hand under her arm, half carrying her with him out the side door to the room.

"Wait here. I won't be long." Mulder opened his mouth to protest, and Alex shook his head. "I'm putting her someplace safe. When we're through, I'll give her back to you, and the two of you can go." He paused for a moment in the doorway. "Unless you'd rather she stayed? And watched?" The taunt was clear.

"I'll be here." The sullen threat was equally clear. Stormy hazel eyes met calculating deep brown, and Scully squirmed slightly. Whatever was going down, Mulder was not going to like it. And neither did she.

 

He hauled her unceremoniously out the door and into a small room further down the dank corridor, settling her into the single padded chair with surprisingly gentle hands. She raised her hands to him, hoping against hope that he'd release her, and he laughed softly.

"No, Dana, I don't think so. You're too dangerous for me to trust you that far. And I will be locking you in here, so you won't ... interrupt the proceedings."

He met her muffled "Mmph?" with a decidedly mischievous grin.

"On the other hand, there's no reason why you should miss all the fun." With a single sharp rip, he tore the tape from her mouth, wrenching a pained gasp from her as the adhesive threatened to take the tender skin along with the tape. Before she could react, Krycek pulled her face to his, holding her tightly with one fist clenched in the heavy weight of hair at the back of her neck. "You really are beautiful. And maybe one of these days I'll get to enjoy that beauty-"

"I'll see you in hell first!"

"-but until then," he continued, ignoring her furious interruption, "you can watch. Mulder won't have a clue." His laughing mouth captured hers for a scant moment, forcing her lips wide and plunging his tongue inside, then dropping her before she could bite him. Still laughing softly, he flipped a switch on a small keyring, and she was distracted by a large screen that lit up against the far wall. On it, she could see her partner, prowling like a caged animal, a haunted look on his face, his shoulders hunched forward as if to make himself a smaller target, somehow. The slamming of the door swiveled her head around, but it was too late to stop him. Deciding to ignore the screen for now, she got to work with her teeth, digging at the tape on her hands. There might not be any other way out of here, but at least when Krycek came back, she would be waiting for him.

 

His hands felt cold. If there had ever been a time in his life when he felt less like having sex, he couldn't remember it. For the first time ever, he wished that there was some way for a man to fake it. Mulder heard the door open behind him, and pivoted to face his enemy.

"If you kill me, my friends will kill her before you can find her."

He couldn't tell from Krycek's calm face if it was a bluff or not, but he couldn't gamble on it being a lie, not with Scully's safety at stake. He managed a deep gulp of air, and steadied himself as best he could. Holding Krycek's dark gaze with his own, he growled, "Now what?"

Alex laughed out loud. This was too funny. He was so hot for this man he practically couldn't walk around the rock in his jeans, and Mulder looked like he was heading for the executioner. "You made a deal, my Fox."

"Don't call me that, damnit!" Mulder burst out, unable to stop himself.

Krycek shook his head, walking closer, his approach uncannily like a panther or some other dark hunting cat, stalking his prey. Mulder found himself giving ground unconsciously, and only managed to stop himself when his back hit the wall. "But you are, at least for tonight. That is, if you want your Dana back. Alive and in one piece."

Looking at the eerie mixture of heat and pure ice in Krycek's eyes, Mulder believed him. Completely.

"I... we ... there is ... I think I have a problem with this."

Krycek stopped his advance and watched Mulder steadily. "Would you rather I do Scully?"

"No!" Mulder reached out a hand, then dropped it hurriedly. "It's just, well ... I'm not ...I can't do this on demand!!"

Alex eyed him for a moment longer, then nodded his head. No way was Mulder up for sex. Not in the state he was in. "I have something for that. But you have to ask for it."

What the-? "Ask for it?" Mulder wasn't sure what Krycek's game was.

"Yes." The smile returned, and Mulder swallowed heavily. "You have to ask. Nicely."

Oh, shit. More damned head games. He inhaled, and unclenched his teeth. "May I have some of whatever it is that will help, then?"

"Please, Alex."

He was going to gag. "Please," deep breath, "Alex."

"Very good, Fox!" Krycek turned to a small kit on the end table next to the door, and Mulder had to remind himself that killing him with his bare hands was probably not a good idea. Especially with Scully tied up and stashed somewhere.

Especially when he wasn't sure he could take the cocky little bastard.

When Krycek turned back, he had a syringe and a small bottle in his hand. "I've played with the mix just a little bit, Fox. You responded so well to the aphrodisiac last time, I thought I'd increase it just a bit, see if I can make you a little more wild. You didn't do a hell of a lot last time, just ... laid there and took it."

Mulder wanted to wipe that reminiscent grin off with his fists, but contented himself with jerkily tugging off his jacket. When he started to roll up his sleeve, Alex shook his head 'no.'

"Take it off, Fox. After all, it's all going to come off anyway. Now, tell me again, do you want this?"

Mulder had to concentrate to stop gritting his teeth. "Yes, please, Alex," he finally grunted, "give it to me."

"With pleasure," Krycek responded, sinking the needle deeply into Mulder's arm and feeling a shiver of anticipation run through him at the wince of pain from the agent. This was going to be fun.

 

The conversation rocked Dana Scully to the core. She couldn't quite believe what Krycek was insinuating, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the two figures on the screen, either. Now Mulder was apparently begging to be shot up with some sort of devil's brew, and Krycek was obviously prepared. Had this happened before? Was this what was haunting her partner, turning him even moodier than usual and strangely quiet? And what exactly *had* happened? Giving up on finding another exit, unable to budge the solidly locked door, Scully moved closer to the screen, unable to stop watching, even though her gut instinct was begging her to close her eyes, plug her ears, and hide.

 

The drug hit his system in a completely different way this time. His senses were swimming, but unlike the last time, he wasn't filled with lassitude, unable to use his muscles. In fact, he felt energized, as if someone had lit a fire under his skin, and so sensitized the air currents felt like fingers moving over him. Hesitating, giving himself time to adjust to the strange slant on his senses, he barely heard Krycek move closer.

Alex stared at Mulder for a bare second, feeling the arousal surge through him. Then, with a wicked smile, he pulled the dazed agent into the brighter light, angling him so that Scully could get the best show. The knowledge that the woman was watching sent a rush to his head and further hardened his already anxious body. This was better than his daydreams, by far. Not giving Mulder any time to think, if he *could* think with the drugs drenching his system, he quickly pulled the tie from around his throat and ripped open the buttons down the front of his shirt.

Mulder made a slight sound of protest, and Krycek rewarded him with a light slap across the face. Mulder swayed slightly, but made no other move, and Krycek continued to strip him, pulling his shirt off his arms, peeling his undershirt off and tossing it onto the floor. Mulder let him do whatever he wanted, falling deeper under the sway of the drugs. Alex, pulled at his belt with shaky hands, flicking the buckle open and sliding his hand down the zipper, feeling greedy and horny and hungry. The burgeoning erection he found brought a small growl of appreciation to his throat. Apparently the adjustments he made to the mixture were on the mark; Mulder was getting aroused in spite of himself.

Mulder swayed slightly as Krycek knelt in front of him, stripping his slacks off and lifting first one foot then the other to remove his socks and shoes. He had to rest his hand on Krycek's shoulder for balance, or he would have gone over on his ass. The smooth texture of cotton under his fingers felt wrong. "You're overdressed." He sounded lazy, sleepy, the timbre of his voice lower than usual. And he was getting incredibly hot. When Alex raised his head to reply, he had an overwhelming urge to ram his cock down the other man's throat, just as hard and as far as he could. Krycek lost his train of thought when he saw the size of the erection waving in front of his face, and before he could move, Mulder suddenly curled up over the top of him, allowing his weight to bowl Alex over. Krycek started to throw him off, when he realized that Mulder was going after his clothing, pulling them hard, trying to undress him. Krycek smirked, and reached out to calm Mulder down.

Wrong move.

Before he quite realized what Mulder intended, he found himself flat on his stomach, facing Mulder's crotch as the agent knelt in front of him, pulling both of Krycek's arms flat behind his back, holding him down on the floor. Krycek couldn't move, not without risking Mulder breaking his arms at the elbows. As he started to croak out a question, Mulder surged forward, firmly sinking his erect cock between Krycek's open lips.

"Eat me, Alex. Bite me and I'll break your fucking arms." He didn't even hear himself, but Krycek did.

The angle was perfect for Mulder to force Krycek to deep throat him, and he did, barely pulling back to allow him some air between thrusts. The feeling of the open mouth and throat under and around his cock nearly caused his already reeling head to explode, and he bent forward over his captive, watching the thrust of his cock in Alex's mouth avidly. Tears were starting to run slowly from the corner of the other man's eyes from the strain on his neck and the lack of oxygen, but he kept his lips firm around the shaft pounding into his mouth, tried to breath through his nose, fought the gagging instinct that could very well lead to getting his arms broken. He hadn't factored in the fact that Mulder got both stronger and a hell of a lot meaner when he was doped up.

Narrowing his eyes and concentrating on making Mulder come as soon as possible so he could breath again, he sucked as hard as he could and tried to relax his throat, and not choke to death. Mulder's pace increased until he was slamming his balls against Krycek's chin, and the little distressed noises Krycek was making seemed to add to his pleasure, because very shortly he felt the pressure rise until he pressed as hard as he could into the now writhing man and shot so hard he nearly passed out , feeling like he was going to come forever. Finally, he withdrew enough that Alex was able to gasp in some air, and let go of his arms. Krycek wriggled away, rolling into a small ball and waiting for the little lights to stop flashing behind his eyelids. No way on earth would he ever tell Mulder this, but he was more turned on than he had ever been in his life. And he was so hard he though he was going to rupture something.

Kneeling, swaying, on the floor, Mulder stared at Krycek. Whatever was in that syringe was potent, because he'd just come so hard he'd nearly bled and he was already hard again. Crawling over to the curled up body of his enemy, he jerked him straight and ripped the tee shirt off of him, taking no care at all, intent on getting as much bare skin next to his own burning skin as he possibly could, as quickly as possible. Alex was still somewhat dazed from lack of oxygen, and put up very little fight. Mulder's rough fingers digging at his jeans zipper hurt, however, and he instinctively reached down to pull Mulder's hands away.

Mulder didn't even pause, just backhanded him hard, and Alex had ringing ears to go along with the flashing lights. He was disoriented. This wasn't going quite the way he'd planned it, but god, it was incredible. He didn't know Mulder had it in him. Before he could go any further with the thought, he felt his now bare legs pulled roughly apart and Mulder started to rut at him, no lubricant, no preparation, nothing. The pain shocked him out of his stupor and he screamed.

"Goddamnit, Mulder, not like that!" *Fuck, that hurt* he moaned as he batted at Mulder's hands. The agent wasn't getting very far in his attempt to fuck Alex, either, and the frustration was making him even rougher. Krycek finally managed to scramble away, making it to the kit and pulling a tube of ointment from it. "Okay! Okay! Use this!!"

Mulder stopped and glared at him, and Alex was transfixed at the mixture of lust and hatred burning in the other man's deep green eyes. "You use it," Mulder growled at him, "now. Do it."

Krycek stared at him in fascination, eyes huge, as he awkwardly tried to lube himself up. This was either his secret wet dream come to life or his biggest nightmare, and he wasn't sure which. Mulder watched him fumble with the tube for a moment, then crossed the room to rip it out of his hands. Tossing Krycek to his knees, unbeknownst to him sideways to the hidden camera, he slathered a dollop of the lubricant into the soft opening between Alex's cheeks, pushing two fingers deep within him, uncaring of his roughness. Alex's head arched back at the feeling and he moaned involuntarily.

Hearing it, responding almost as if it was a cue of some sort, Mulder tossed the tube aside and guided his straining cock to the small hole. Pushing hard, he put all the strength of his back into his thrust, and sank to the root into Alex's body. The sudden push wrenched a cry of mingled pleasure and pain from the man underneath him, and he paused for a moment, buried as deeply as he could get.

Some part of his mind was telling him that he really shouldn't be enjoying this so much, but another part was crowing in triumph at getting some measure of revenge for all of the pain this bastard had caused him. The crowing was louder than the other voice in his ears, and he reached forward to grip the lean hips in front of him firmly, setting a brutal rhythm that had Krycek writhing beneath his body. Alex dropped down to rest on his chest and shoulders, bringing his right hand up to grip his own straining cock, and Mulder let go of his hips just long enough to knock the questing hand away.

"No. Just take it, you son of a bitch. Just take it." Mulder curled his chest over until it rested along Krycek's back, sending his pounding cock even deeper into the other man, and ran his hands along Krycek's arms until he could lay his hands over Krycek's, twining his fingers with his own so that Krycek couldn't move. Alex couldn't believe how incredibly aroused he was by his feelings of helplessness, and found himself bucking back into Mulder's thrusts, timing his arching hips to meet Mulder in perfect rhythm.

After what felt like an eternity, and when Alex didn't felt like his straining legs and back could take another instant of punishment, Mulder thrust as deeply as possible into him and held himself there, spurting hard, triggering Krycek's own climax. When he stopped coming and relaxed, he felt Mulder collapse on top of him, bearing his weight into the cold floor. Dimly, Alex was aware of his bruised and bloody knees from the concrete, but right at that moment he couldn't have moved to ease his discomfort for all the gold in the world and a ticket to Cancerman's funeral.

 

Scully stared at the screen in open mouthed shock, her emotions a psychedelic mixture of revulsion, awe, disgust and arousal so strong her throat had dried with it. Whatever revelation she had expected from Mulder regarding his time in Krycek's custody before she and Skinner had arrived had not had any degree of sex in it, and certainly not this uncontrolled frenzy she was witnessing here. Her conscience was determined that Mulder would regret this, that Krycek was using him, via the drugs, degrading him. Her mind told her that her partner would need a lot of support and understanding to get through this horrible experience. Her body wanted to join them.

She shook off that traitorous thought and tried to tear her eyes away from the now apparently satiated men, to look again for some way out of this trap. Before she got two steps, a low moan caught her attention, and she found herself caught again. The moan was answered by a soft gasp from her own lips. God. They were both so damned beautiful. Unaware of her actions, she sank into the padded chair and licked her lips, attention riveted to the screen, wandering hands relieving the tension wrought by the actions of her partner and the rat bastard responsible for all of this.

 

The edge was wearing off from the drugs, but the underlying buzz was still making his head fuzzy and his body hungry. Mulder lay back on the floor, trying to figure out what to do next ... shouldn't he be trying to escape? Rescue Scully? Get the hell out of here? His rambling thoughts were interrupted by the warm weight of Alex pulling himself over the top of him, draping himself chest to chest with Mulder. Mulder closed his eyes with the sensation of crisp curls of hair circling lazily on his smooth skin, only to open them again when he felt the wet warmth of Krycek's open mouth at his throat. Incredibly, he found himself getting hard again.

What the hell did Krycek *put* in that stuff? Before he could gather himself enough to actually ask the question, Krycek worked his way over his jaw and latched onto his open mouth. The salty taste of Alex's tongue caused him to lick his lips, or try to, and Krycek raised himself higher on Mulder's body, concentrating on exploring the sweet warmth opened up to him. The necessary shifting for counterweight brought their groins against one another, and Mulder's erection teased at Krycek's.

Before long, they were thrusting together in a lazy counter rhythm to the workings of their tongues, and they were both reaching, touching, exploring every inch of skin they could touch. Mulder was so far gone that he could have fucked a tree, by that point, and Alex was so happy to get some measure of control in the situation that the sore muscles and bruises and little cuts were almost forgotten. They writhed together, sinuously rubbing against one another, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of hot skin on hot skin, until they gradually worked themselves into a frenzy that spilled over into the third orgasm of the encounter for Mulder. It wasn't a very long one, but it felt incredibly intense because his flesh was so sensitized.

Krycek swallowed Mulder's scream when he came, following shortly afterward with his own. Utterly exhausted, Mulder passed out into something resembling drugged sleep, and Krycek curled up along Mulder's side, panting lightly. Hadn't been quite what he'd expected, but he'd take it.

 

She stared at the once-again still figures, then started when she realized where her hands were. With a guilty look around the empty room, she quickly withdrew her fingers and pulled her skirt down. She couldn't tell him what she'd seen. She just couldn't. No matter how much he might need someone to talk to about this, she just knew that he'd take one look at her and know exactly what kind of effect witnessing his actions had had on her. One thing was certain.

She'd never be able to tease him about his videos again.

 

Mulder woke up to find himself in the front passenger seat of his car. His head still felt a little muzzy, and his body felt like he'd been beaten by thugs with baseball bats, and he had distinct memories of very wild sex with Alex Krycek -- his mind shut off, and he concentrated on Scully, silently steering the car through the early morning DC traffic.

"Uhm, Scully?" His voice sounded rusty. Oh, yeah. He'd been screaming a lot recently.

"Yes, Mulder?" Her wide blue eyes met his, then darted away. He missed the guilty flush, too intent on the dashboard, to nervous to really look at her.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." She paused, but he didn't say anything else. After a moment, she continued. "How about you?"

"I'm fine," he lied. She nodded, he saw the movement in the reflection in the windshield.

"You ... want to talk?" She didn't sound like she really wanted to ask.

Shit, no! "Not right now, thanks." They were quiet for a moment, lost in their thoughts. Pursing his sore lips, he ventured, "So, where'd he take you?"

"Just a room." She stared straight ahead. "One chair, no windows, no way to get the door open. After a couple hours, he came back, unlocked the door, and helped me put you in the car."

"Oh." Eyes shadowed, thoughts chaotic.

"Think he'll be back anytime soon?"

God, I hope not. "No. He sounded like he was running out of time."

"Good." Her tone was unbending. He could only agree.

 

In a dark back room, an old man in a suit contemplated the smoldering end of his cigarette. His problem child had managed to escape the net once again, but he was still on the run. Time was running against him in this particular race. And one day, he would trip. The old man smiled. He had time.

 

_Possibilities_ __

He'd hoped, almost prayed, that he'd never hear that voice again. The memories of what that bastard had done to him, and the more recent memories of his own actions, haunted him. He understood a little better why his enemy had not been able to get their coupling out of his mind. Having both given and recieved, and having confronted depths to his sensuality that he'd have been happier never seeing, he had hoped that it would be over. The traitorous voice in the back of his mind that whispered of his pleasure was one he tried to ignore. But this other voice brought it back.

"Thought you were running out of time," he managed to squeeze out into the silence that filled his cellular phone.

"Were you hoping that this time he'd managed to kill me, Mulder?" The voice was scratchy, as if from fatigue, or fear, or probably both.

"Why should I want you dead?" The sarcasm was thick, and stinging.

"It would be counterproductive."

"In what way?" He couldn't believe he was hearing this. After all the nightmares this man had given him, why shouldn't he want him dead? Except that would be one more victory for the Cancerman. He steadfastly refused to consider the other, equally disturbing dreams he had had about this man.

"I have what you're looking for." What now? he thought, but waited for the other man to go on. "Proof, or at least a starting point."

"Of what?" Mulder ventured.

"Some of the insurance I took with me before I split. Meet me. I don't want to talk about this over the line."

"When and where?" And why was he doing this? It wasn't as though he trusted the son of a bitch.

"Alley behind the Gann building. Thirty minutes." The click announced the end of the conversation. Mulder slowly folded the phone and sat for a moment, looking out the window. It was dark, just before ten, and the weather was warm, almost steamy on this August night. Just how he wanted to spend his evening, exchanging information in a back alley with a man he hated, and wanted, and wished was dead.

 

Dana Scully pulled up in front of Mulder's apartment building in time to see his car pull away. Damn. Now, when she really needed to talk to him, in person, away from the office ... just when she'd gathered her courage to finally tell him what she had seen. And how it had affected her. And how it was affecting their partnership. She had to trust him, and she had to know he trusted her. As long as this was between them, unspoken, unacknowledged, the extent of her unwitting culpability weighing her down, they would never find the ease they had had with one another. It had been four miserable months. It couldn't go on. She put the car back into gear and pulled out, carefully shadowing her partner. Whatever he was doing, he'd probably need backup. And when it was over, they would talk.

 

A shadow detached itself from the side of the wall as Mulder cautiously picked his way into the dark alley. The flash of even white teeth in the darkness gave away the other man's position, and Mulder drew his gun.

"Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?" The light, mocking voice seemed to float through the darkness.

"You are not my friend, Krycek."

"Well, I may be, after tonight."

"What do you have for me?" Friends? He sincerely doubted it.

"Not while you're holding a gun. Truce, remember?"

"I remember." Everything. "Okay," he slipped the weapon back into the holder clipped to his waistband. "Now. What have you got? And why give it to me?" He was closer now, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, and he could make out Alex's face, the wide eyes staring at him intently, an almost feral expression in them. His lips were pulled upward in a tight grin, and his hair fell forward across his brow. Mulder had a completely unexpected impulse to reach out and brush the lock of hair away from those dark eyes, but checked it before he made a complete ass of himself.

"I want to take him down. He nearly got me this time." Alex was almost whispering, and Mulder found himself drawing nearer in order to hear him. This close, he could feel the heat radiating from the other man's body. His own body began to react to the memories that heat triggered, and he clenched his teeth against the rush of arousal. "I can't keep running. My 'insurance' is only buying me time. At this rate the only permanent solution is either his death ... or mine." He swept his eyes up to meet Mulder's, challenging him. "You may hate me, but I'm not in your way in your search for the truth. I can even help you. He never will. So make up your mind. Who would you rather see taken out of the game?"

He wanted to say 'you,' but he couldn't. "Cancerman." In the dim light, he saw Alex nod. The younger man reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a manilla envelope. As Mulder reached to take it, he drew back. Mulder looked at him suspiciously.

"I need something in return." Krycek's voice shook slightly.

"What now?" He stared hard at Alex, noting the increased rate of his breathing, the glitter growing in his eyes. Alex reached into the envelope and drew out a sheet of paper.

"Here's what I'm offering." Mulder took the paper and began to scan the contents, holding the page close to his face in order to read it. He didn't see Krycek moving closer to him, too excited by what he saw in the photocopied sheet. Names. Dates. Places. Forty years ago, but the beginning of the paper trail that would tie Cancerman directly to the human/alien cross fertilization experiments ... to Samantha. "There's more." Krycek's husky voice was right at his ear, and he started, raising his head from the paper to come face to face with Alex. The other man was so close he could feel his breath on his face. He swallowed. He really wanted these papers.

"What do you want from me?" His voice sounded raspy, although he wasn't sure if it was fear or arousal. Krycek was so close now, he could see the flush in his cheeks, the light glistening off his moistened lips, where he had recently licked them. He swallowed again, more heavily.

"Something I've given you, twice now. Turn about's fair play, after all." Memories burned in Mulder's mind, and he involuntarily glanced at the bulge in the front of Krycek's jeans.

The two men locked glances, and Mulder swallowed a third time. Then he nodded. Krycek smiled, a hint of the feral showing through there as well, then took back the sheets and carefully shuffled them in with the rest. He put the packet back in his jacket, and the two men stood there for a long moment. Mulder could just take them and run. Except Alex would probably catch him. He could shoot Alex, now, and take the evidence. But he wasn't sure he could ... or even wanted to. Finally he admitted it to himself. He wanted this. He would never admit it to anyone else, and he wasn't sure he wanted to think about it at all, but he wanted this.

"When we're ... you're finished. Then you'll get it." Krycek waited patiently, wanting Mulder to make the first move. Demanding it. Taking a deep breath, taking in the unique scent of musk and cologne and sweet urgency that was so familiar from their previous encounters, Mulder pushed Krycek gently against the wall and knelt gingerly in front of him. They were sheilded from the street by a pile of broken slats and cardboard, creating an illusion that there was no one else in the world, no one sharing the dark except themselves. Tentatively reaching out to work the zipper of Krycek's jeans down, he wasn't surprised by the heft of the erection behind it. His own body was hardening, and he licked his lips.

"I'm not very good at this," he growled, concentrating on freeing Alex's rigid cock from the cotton briefs. He couldn't have looked up to save his life. Alex ran the fingertips of his right hand through the dense softness of Mulder's hair, his left hand hooking his waist band to draw it down and give the other man better access.

"I'll let you know when you're doing it right," he managed, then caught his breath as Mulder wrapped his fingers around his straining penis, pushing the material out of the way with his other hand. Mulder was caught up in the stangeness of the whole situation, and his world narrowed to the hot, slick flesh in his hands. He took a shuddering breath, and began to stroke the shaft, thinking of the movements he used on himself, what gave him pleasure. As his fingers traced the veins, pressing firmly into the muscle then palpating the head with his thumb, he heard Krycek gasping above him. A single salty tear appeared at the slit along the top, and the hand in his hair began to urge his head down.

Mulder went with the movement, allowing his curiosity and unacknowledged lust sway. He delicately licked all around the crown, wetting the skin with his saliva, before allowing the head to slip into his mouth. The slightly bitter taste of precum slicked over his tongue and he reacted instinctively, working his lips and tongue to spread the liquid around. Judging by the light panting and softly repressed moans rumbling from Krycek, he was doing something right.

Having given himself up to doing this, Mulder finally shut off his mind and allowed his body to take over. He leaned closer to Krycek, one hand roving down to cup his balls, kneading them and rolling them in the sac. The other hand held his cock firmly, as he slid his mouth up and down the sides, licking here, nibbling there, as if Krycek was a lollipop and he was starving for sweets. So different, and yet so much the same. Alex began to buck slightly under his hands, and he bent to his task, covering the whole shaft with one hand, digging the fingers of his other hand into the soft skin and firm muscle of the hip under him, and concentrating on the sensitive cock head, sucking hard.

After several moments of this, he felt the quivers begin in Krycek's legs, and he slipped one hand between the other man's thighs and up between his ass cheeks, probing for his opening and pressing firmly. His other hand wrapped around Alex's balls, and he rolled them from side to side in counter rhythm to the two finger stretching Alex's ass. Trying to finish him off, Mulder opened his jaw, relaxed his throat, and took Alex as deeply into his throat as he could, fighting the reflex to gag and concentrating on the taste and texture of the cock thrusting into his throat. He clamped his lips as firmly as possible along the shaft as Krycek increased his thrusts, allowing a hint of teeth to scrape at irregular intervals, eliciting whimpers from Krycek, dragging his soft lower lip along the underside of Alex's cock until the other man could no longer supress his moans.

The triple assault was more than he could cope with, and Krycek found himself thrusting mindlessly into Mulder, both hands buried in the thick mop of hair, his head thrashing back and forth. He forced himself to look down, entranced by the sight of Mulder, eyes squeezed shut, going at his cock like an expert. Who said he was no good at this? He was a natural! Before he could complete the thought, he felt the undeniable build up of pressure in his balls, and tried to warn Mulder. But the only sounds he could force past his tight throat were moans.

He untangled one hand long enough to nudge Mulder's cheek, and Mulder managed to look up at him, not breaking his rhythm in the least. Alex tried to gesture with his head that Mulder should pull away, but before he could, his orgasm hit, and he found himself pressing forward as hard as he could, shooting into the other man's mouth. To a surprise he could only think about afterward, Mulder kept his eyes locked on his own, and swallowed as fast as Krycek could shoot. The hard sucking around his spasming cock only made the convulsions stronger, and he came so hard he nearly passed out. Mulder continued to milk him with his fist and mouth until he was drained, leaning weakly against the wall, running his hands tenderly over Mulder's face and hair. He hadn't expected such ... enthusiasm.

Mulder didn't really want to stop. If he stopped, he'd have to get up, and face Krycek. And after his performance, he didn't want to do that. But when Krycek began to slide bonelessly against the wall, he found himself rising and supporting the smaller man, nestling the solid warmth against his own body, shaking from the aftermath of what he'd just done. Voluntarily. Without drugs, or really much coercion. He felt intensely confused, and aroused, and frightened. He licked his lips, tasting the semen there, and shivered.

Alex raised his head, his deep green eyes meeting the open hazel eyes slightly above his own, and sympathized. Mulder did the same thing to him that he was now apparently doing to Mulder. Confused the hell out of him and made him incredibly hot. He gave in to a sudden need and reached up to capture Mulder's lower lip between his, deepening the nibble into a full kiss, sweeping his tongue into the agent's mouth to taste himself.

Mulder allowed the contact, even leaned into it for a moment, then he broke away suddenly, tearing himself from the inviting warmth of Krycek's body, shaking his head as if coming out of a trance. Alex watched him for a moment, then, with a decisive nod, drew the documents from his jacket and handed them to Mulder.

"Here." You earned them, he nearly added, but he didn't. That would make Mulder feel like a whore, and that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted more, and if he played it right, he just might get it.

Mulder looked at the envelope in his hand and licked his lips again. He had it, but at what price? He couldn't read Krycek, not now ... he couldn't bring himself to look at him that closely. There was a rustle of denim, and a snick of metal, then silence.

"Use them well, Mulder. Get the bastard." The soft words were nearly whispered, and he nodded in response. When he finally gathered his courage and looked up, Krycek was gone. He took several deep breaths of the sultry night air, then shakily moved out of the alley twoard his car. Placing the precious envelope on the passenger seat behind him, he clenched his hands on the steering wheel and headed for home, still in a state of shock.

 

Scully was in a state of shock as well, reeling from what she had seen. Krycek, showing Mulder a piece of paper, then moving in and taking the paper back. Mulder, with seemingly no hesitation at all, dropping to his knees and giving Krycek what looked to be an expert and extremely effective blow job, judging by the effect on Krycek. The ecstasy drawn on the man's face as he leaned against the wall, her partner's hands and mouth driving him insane, was burned into Scully's brain. A thought from an earlier unwilling voyeuristic episode swam through her mind ... they were both so beautiful. She was breathing in short pants, her fists clenched, her eyes darting wildly from side to side. One she loved. One she hated. And she wanted both. Stepping carefully from the nest of wood and cardboard that had covered her, she almost ran to her car. She had to get to Mulder. Now.

 

He didn't bother to turn on the lights, just sat in the darkness lit by the fishtank. His mind was running in crazed circles, like a fox caught in a trap. He laughed out loud at the unintentional pun, and dropped his head back onto the couch. His mind was insisting on being heard, and he sighed and let it have it's say.

He was crazy. Certifiable. Should be shot, or locked up for his own safety, or something equally drastic. Because he hated Alex Krycek to depths he had seldom hated anyone, and he wanted him just as deeply. He toed off his shoes, then pulled off his socks and shirt, trying to cool down. As usual, his air conditioner was on the fritz, and equally as usual, he hadn't gotten around to calling the landlord about fixing it. The August heat, combined with the thoughts of his recent activities and his own unsatisfied arousal, were making his body temperature skyrocket.

"Fuck it," he growled to the fish. Wiggling out of his jeans and shorts, he tossed them carelessly beside the couch. Feeling slightly cooler, he collapsed back onto the worn cushions, debated on whether to turn on the tv, thought about the tape currently in his vcr, and swore again. His head dropped back to the soft cushion and his hands began to skim over his body as his mind replayed what he had done to Alex Krycek. As the scene began to unfold with eidectic perfection behind his eyelids, his hands went directly to his rigid cock, and he began to stroke himself firmly. The taste, the scent, the strangled cries he had incited earlier came back to him, and his own muted groans began to fill the room. Caught up in the sensations radiating from his hands on his cock, he didn't hear the key snick in the lock or the gentle swish of the door opening.

Scully closed the door as quietly as she had opened it, her attention completely caught up in the unmistakable sounds of her partner's voice moaning in pleasure. Forgetting to set the security chain, she dropped her purse on the floor, moving silently across the thin carpet to the living room, entranced at the sight that met her eyes. Mulder lay in splendid abandon, one long leg splayed out along the front of the couch, the other bent slightly, heel digging into the cushion. He was completely naked, and she drank in the sight of his flushed, sweating skin, bunched muscles in his chest, arms, thighs, his head thrown back and the tendons showing in his arched throat. His nipples were erect, and the sinewy muscles along his arms quivered with the force of his thrusting hands. His fingers were wrapped around his straining cock, almost purple with the force of his arousal, so close to bursting. His flesh was slick with ejaculate, and she could see by the rapid pounding that he was close to coming. The moans were almost continuous now, low, growly, distinctly Mulder. She had always wondered if he was a screamer. As he spilled over the edge, come soaking his hands and spilling over onto the tops of his thighs, she had her answer. She hoped his neighbors were sound sleepers.

Eyes still shut, feeling some relief from the pressure built up earlier in the evening but still flushed with arousal, he was jolted from his thoughts by the completely unexpected sensation of a tongue lapping at the base of his cock. He jolted upright, or tried, but she followed him, and he stared in shock at the burnished red hair of his partner, kneeling beside the couch and busily licking up the puddles of semen along his groin and the soft skin of his inner thighs. His cock stirred, and he finally managed a croaked question.

"Scully?" God. That felt incredible. Now, here was someone who knew what to do with her tongue. He tried to push her away, or that's what he told himself, but she felt so incredibly good that he found himself pushing up toward her questing mouth.

"Mmph?" She sounded preoccupied, and didn't bother stopping to look up at him. His hand slipped away from her hair, down along her shoulder, coming to rest on her collarbone before giving in to temptation and sliding down to cup her breast. She edged closer to the couch, pushing the weight of her breast further into his hand, and he felt the hard nub of her nipple butting into his palm. Her pace increased, licking all the way around his cock, lifting his sac with her fingertip then cleaning under it with her agile tongue. Her hands worked their way under his hips, cupping his ass and urging him closer. Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer. He had to have more.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled her head away from his crotch. She fought him at first, then gave ground, allowing herself to be moved. Before she quite caught her breath, he gripped the hem of her tee shirt and stripped it efficiently off, biting back a moan at the sight of the pale skin filling the white lace bra. He could see her nipples straining against the material, and he curled over, drawing her over him in order to nibble them delicately through the material. She groaned in response and raked her nails down his chest, returning the delicious torture.

As he continued to work on her breasts, chaffing the tender skin through the material, she pushed off her shorts, frantically kicking off her sandals. She had waited four years for this, and she wasn't waiting a second longer than she had to, now that they were finally naked together. Something to thank the rat bastard for, she thought muzzily, then gasped as Mulder finally flicked the clasp to her bra and began to knead her bare breasts. She pushed him further back onto the couch, her small, strong hands pushing at his shoulders until he was prone. Straddling his waist, she rubbed her inner thighs against his soft skin, luxuriating in the feeling of his mouth on her breasts, letting the flow build before finally allowing her now wet cunt to rub against his stomach. He thrust up in response, the tip of his erection prodding against her ass, and she reluctantly sat up, pulling her nipple from his teeth. He held on for a little while, stretching the flesh delightfully, before letting her get away.

"Sometimes being short sucks," she hissed, and he grinned at her. The grin was wiped away as she lifted herself and reached between them the grasp his cock firmly, pulling it to her opening and very carefully guiding it into her. It had been awhile, and even as wet as she was, it was a tight fit. He held himself as rigid as possible, trying to control the urge to roll her over onto the floor and plunge into her. As the tight heat enveloped him slowly, inch at a time, he tossed his head back and bit at his lip. She rocked gently, getting the tip in, then sliding a little further down the shaft with each rock, letting gravity do some of the work, mentally congratulating Mulder on his restraint. Of course, the fact that he'd just jerked himself off was undoubtedly helping, she grinned to herself. With one final push, forcing a gasp out of both of them, she took all of him in.

He was in hell, and heaven, all at the same time. The anticipation of movement was surely going to kill him, and the wet, tight heat clinging to him like a second skin felt better than anything he could remember, even with his memory. She slowly folded over onto him, with his cock buried deep inside her, and stretched her mouth toward his ear. "Don't just lay there, Mulder. Fuck me." The unexpected command broke his control, and he began to thrust, slowly at first, then gradually building speed. Her eyes were locked with his, and the heat radiated between them. Her hands roamed over his chest, testing the muscle, tweaking his nipples, caressing his arms, his throat, his face. His hands also explored, teasing her nipples, rounding her hip to squeeze her ass, finally drawing down between their driving bodies to seek out her clit. As he neared his climax, he pincered her clit between two strong fingers, frigging it in time to their thrusts. The precise movements on her delicate flesh jolted through her, and she threw her head back, sighing loudly as her body clenched around his in orgasm. The milking sensations of her internal muscles sent an answering orgasm ripping through his body, only he was much louder than she, cutting loose with a rasping scream as she collapsed on top of him.

As the humid breeze from the open window washed over the sweaty bodies entwined on the couch, Mulder wondered what the hell he was supposed to say now. Before he got the chance, she spoke, her words half muffled by the pressure of her face against his chest.

"We have to talk."

Did they ever, he thought, but he waited for her to continue.

"I saw you." She wouldn't -- couldn't look at him. "In the alley." His body jerked underneath her, and she wrapped her arms tighter around him, not letting him withdraw. "It wasn't the first time, Mulder. When Krycek kidnapped me, and you came to rescue me." Her words started to come faster as she felt his body grow rigid under her, either from shock or horror, she wasn't sure which. "He did put me in the little room, as I told you, and I couldn't get out, but I didn't tell you that he turned on a monitor before he left. It was showing the room that you were in. I heard everything, Mulder." She gulped and rushed on. "I saw everything. He told me that he wanted to show me, and that you wouldn't have a clue. I saw him inject you, saw your reaction. I ... saw you having sex with him ... having sex with each other."

"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice was flat, and dead.

"Because I didn't know what to say. I was half hoping you would talk to me, and half hoping you wouldn't."

He gripped her shoulders and pulled her gently up so that he could see her face. "Why not, Scully?"

She stared at him for a long moment, embarrassment and arousal warring in her eyes. "I was ... it was ... the two of you ... god, Mulder, you were both so beautiful!" She pulled from his grip and leaned down, kissing him voraciously, her tongue capturing his full lower lip before sweeping inside. He arched up into the kiss, then broke it off. Staring at her in fascination, he mused, "I do have a bed, you know. And it'd be a hell of a lot more comfortable than this couch." She grinned and slid off of him, wincing as seldom used muscles protested the movement. Taking her hand, he levered himself off the couch and followed her into the bedroom.

A shadow watched from the doorway, smiling to himself. This situation had definite possibilities. He waited to hear the soft sounds of lovemaking begin to issue from the rear room, then let himself back out the front door, carefully locking it behind him with the same pick he had used to get in.

 

In a well equipped dark room in an elegant Georgetown home, a quiet, powerful man looked on as the prints he had paid for developed slowly in the solution. His spies had finally managed to catch another of Mulder's sources, and he was very interested in seeing the identity of the man who was feeding Mulder information. He needed to know, in order to control that flow of information, for Mulder was no use to him unless he could be controlled. As the images developed, an unusual expression of surprise tightened the normally calm, dark features. His eyes narrowed, glittering in the dim light, and a cold smile tilted the corner of his mouth. It would appear that Agent Krycek had not left the picture after all, contrary to the reports of his demise. And it would also appear that Agent Mulder had a somewhat more intimate relationship with Mr. Krycek than he had previously thought. The man known as X traced his lips with the tip of his index finger, eyes riveted to the images taken from the dark alley, by a watcher hidden in the shadows of a nearby roof.

This situation had distinct possibilities. He could always use a proven foot soldier, and as for Mulder ... the smile grew. Possibilities, indeed.

finis, story and series

 


End file.
